


Imaginary

by Fayie



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Friendship, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Sad, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson Friendship, The Science of Deduction, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-02 07:38:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10939983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fayie/pseuds/Fayie
Summary: Friendship/TragedySherlock teaches John the science of deduction.





	Imaginary

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that this is rather sad but sweet in it's own way.  
> No more words, enjoy!

“John, what can you deduct from the evidence we've got so far?”, Sherlock nodded over to the kitchen table which was decorated with a few too many plastic bags.

Fairly obvious they contained the evidence that he was talking about. And overall some nasty stuff as well such as a rotten salami, a single finger nicely cut off, knocked out tooth with some blood. Just the usual. Nothing a normal person would like to give a closer look but luckily John wasn't a normal human being, no, he was Sherlock Holmes one and only true friend and colleague and as such he didn't mind those things. Not that he had a choice because the curious sparkle in Sherlock's eyes when he was at work was worth it every time.

“I could watch you all day being all excited about a case, you know that?”, John asked with a laugh and Sherlock looked up in confusion.

“Could you not start with this kind of conversation until I'm done here, it's distracting my thought process.”

John shook his head but didn't stop smiling. Sherlock being at his best again. But he didn't mind that, he knew that Sherlock's way of thinking was different and that he wouldn't consider his answer being rude. To him it was just stating the facts and by that he was even considerate because otherwise John would just get an annoyed stare or being thrown out. No, Sherlock was happy about it - probably enough to get distracted from his favourite task of deduction.

“So, any deductions so far?”

John had also noticed that Sherlock had tried to teach him the skill of deduction for a while now. Always asking for John's opinion first and explaining everything in detail afterwards. When they wouldn't have a case for too long, he would make up stories and try to get John to solve them. Obviously, they were simpler than Sherlock would enjoy solving and it was just about elementary things so John was actually able to learn.

“Ok, let me see”, he eyed the tooth closer. It was splintered and two roots were missing, also some fragments mixed in that didn't quite fit the tooth because they were slightly more yellow. John took a sharp breath. “I could be mistaken, but I think there has been a second person!”,suddenly his eyes were sparkling as well when he turned to Sherlock.

If he hadn't been Sherlock, he would have hugged him right on the spot.

“Yes, brilliant!”, Sherlock took note of how adorable his flatmate looked when he received the praise. He was smiling wider than before and his eyes vividly glowing, he just couldn't avert his eyes. They stared comfortably at each other for a while, both almost getting lost in their own thoughts about the other person. But then Sherlock came back to life, picked up the bag and started blabbering all about different tooth shapes, density, colours and whatever could distinguish it from another person's. Sherlock was unbelievably proud of John and although this wasn't the first time, it had been a quite difficult one since the bits very tiny and Sherlock hadn't expected John to notice it without a hint.

“John, after solving this case, I'll take you out to dinner to celebrate this!”, he promised with a big smile, but John shook his head. “I've got a better idea. You don't like eating out and probably you won't touch any food there which makes me worried. I'm going to cook and we are eating here together and enjoy a nice evening.”

Sherlock clapped. “That's decided then. How do you feel about some violin playing?”

“Brilliant!”

“Great!”

Within one hour they solved the case, although Sherlock had known the answer right away, he helped John guessing and in the end they were both content with the result.

While Sherlock texted Lestrade, John wrote the shopping list for their dinner.

“Sherlock, I was thinking about some Spaghetti maybe?”

“Fine with me.” It was a simple dish but delicious nevertheless and Sherlock didn't really bother in the first place. He never cooked for himself which meant he was mostly eating fast food if Mrs. Hudson didn't bring him some left over.

They went to the supermarket around the corner and grabbed all they needed quickly but John insisted to get a bottle of wine as well. Sherlock noticed the weird stares the people were giving them and after a while John also furrowed his brows in confusion.

“Any idea why people are starring at us?”

“Don't bother, people always stare. No need to waste energy on deducing their stupid reasons.”

“Probably for the best.”

Sherlock was stared at his whole life. He couldn't remember a time he wasn't considered weird. The main reason he never had friends and rather played with his dogs than humans.

Sherlock was lost in thoughts. While they walked back to their flat, he suddenly started talking.

“You are my first real friend, John.”

“Uh, really?”

“Yes, I really don't know what I would do without you.”

“Getting a bit sentimental, aren't we?”, John chuckled, “But I'm flattered and I'm happy to call you my friend too, Sherlock.”

He looked over to the tall figure walking beside him and he thought he had seen the faintest sign of a blush on the detectives face. Indeed, Sherlock tried very hard not to feel too happy but smiled anyway.

“Thank you.” He hardly ever used those two words. They were meant for very special occasions.

They stopped in front of 221B Baker Street, Sherlock opened the door and they went up into their flat to start the cooking. At least John did because Sherlock was lost in his mind palace again.

John spent half an hour cutting vegetables, making some sauce and cooking noodles. In a drawer he found some Christmas tissues that had probably been brought by Mrs. Hudson. They made a nice table decoration and John secretly thanked their Landlady for her effort. Honestly, she needed some more reward for her voluntary work.

“Sherlock? Food is ready!”, he called finally and as expected there wasn't any answer.

Sherlock was just going through some old cases, sorting the information in and trying to make some connections. There were always connections and people just didn't see because they forget much too quickly. Sometimes new cases solved old clues just because of connections, similarities all this things that were neatly stored in his mind. But he stopped all his mind work when he heard a faint voice calling his name.

Sherlock's eyes shut open. “John. People really should review old cases more often, there's so much hidden information.”

He got a amused glance.

“Had a nice enlightenment?”

“No, actually just stating the obvious.”

“Alright, are you ready for dinner? It looks a little bit like Christmas but I found some decoration!”

Sherlock nodded and got up to follow his friend into the kitchen. Luckily, he had freed the table from any leftovers of the experiment this morning so John didn't have to clean up.

He sniffed and smiled.

“Smells delicious.”

“Thank you!”, John offered him a seat and walked over to get the pots and placed them on some heating mats on the table.

“Oh you found the Christmas tissues apparently?”, he took his and placed it on his lap.

“Ah, yes, found them in the drawer but they will do. Better than toilette paper I guess”, he shrugged.

Sherlock actually cracked a smile. “Certainly.”

He remembered that he had actually wanted to make this a celebration for John's success and now he was the one doing all the work. But he shrugged it off, knowing John loved this far more than any dinner at a restaurant not to speak of Sherlock's cooking skills. There was a reason why Sherlock never cooked.

The next few minutes were spent in a comfortable silence. Both stuffing themselves as if suddenly realizing that they hadn't eaten for days. Nothing was left and both leaned back content with their day.

“John, I'm glad you solved that thing, I must say”, sighed Sherlock.

“True, also we still got wine if you'd like some?”

“Does it mix well with tomato sauce?”

“Yes, there was already some in the sauce anyway.”

“Then let's chink the glasses!”

“I'm up for it.”

John grabbed the bottle and filled there glasses half.

“Here's to you and your success today!”, Sherlock said and raised his glass.

“And to my great teacher”, he winked and downed it in one go.

Sherlock tried to follow and finished his as well.

“You are aware that this is wine and not a shot?”

“Yes, but it's more fun this way.”

An so the bottle was emptied fairly quickly and left was a half-drunken John with a very tipsy detective. The rest of the evening passed in a blur. Sherlock felt a bit like in a bubble or trance, not being quite himself and laughing about everything that popped up in his mind. They ended up on the sofa, playing cards, talking and drinking more until John was properly drunk as well and Sherlock passed out next to him. They slept both next to each other in half sitting position until very late next morning.

John must have woken first because Sherlock was sprawled all over the place when he finally woke. He groaned and felt a headache building up a wall in his head. At least it felt like it because he couldn't grasp a normal thought and the memories of the night before were fuzzy.

Nevertheless, he moved his heavy limbs and got up slowly. His back hurt as well because of the strange sleeping position he had been in.

He staggered into the kitchen and noticed that it was already cleaned. John must have been active already, he wondered.

“John?”, there was no answer. Probably went for a walk, as he did most times when he needed to clear his head.

Sherlock noticed the disposed empty bottle in the bin, the tissues and also an unopened pack of noodles and tomatoes. Had he again let them go bad? He sighed. If he would give those things more attention, they wouldn't have to go shopping so often.

After a shower and with fresh clothes he felt much better and decided to go down to visit Mrs. Hudson.

He knocked a few times on her door and waited for an answer. Mrs. Hudson opened the door with a deep frown on her face.

“Mrs. Hudson?”, he wondered, “Have John and I been too noisy last night? We were just drinking, you know we don't do that often and you are never bothered by my violin playing...”

Obviously it was about that because as soon as he mentioned their names she sighed.

“Sherlock...”, she started but was cut off by a person emerging out of her kitchen.

“Brother.”

“Mycroft”, he frowned, “what do you want?”

He wasn't willing to help his annoying brother with another case and he still had a headache. Both things weren't improving the current situation.

“Talk.”

“Let's go to the kitchen first and settle down”, Mrs. Hudson decided and pushed them forward.

Mrs. Hudson's kitchen was nicely cleaned and some flowers were placed on her table as well as tea and some cookies.

Sherlock fetched one of his favourite gingernut cookies and sat down crossing his legs and arms in a defensive manner.

“What is it that you need to talk about, brother mine?”, he emphasized the last two words especially to show his already visible annoyance.

“You and... John.” Mycroft didn't touch neither tea nor cookies so it must be serious.

“Where is uhm... John at the moment, dear?”, asked Mrs. Hudson and looked around curiously.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “No idea, out for a walk, I guess. Obviously not here, Mrs. Hudson. If we disturbed you last night, I am really sorry since it must have been especially bad if you have to call my brother for that.” The situation felt weird. It couldn't possibly be that Mrs. Hudson would bother about them being loud one night. At least not enough to call his brother! So either Mycroft was worried that he got too attached... but no, Mrs. Hudson wouldn't worry about that. So the only possibility left was...

Sherlock jumped from his seat and leaned over the table, almost smashing a cup. “What happened to John? Where is he?!”

“Sherlock please...”, Mycroft didn't return his stare but focused on his cup instead. Mrs. Hudson looked especially worried.

“Oh, Sherlock...”

“Just-... just tell me already! Where is he? What is the matter?”

“Sherlock”, Mycroft looked him straight in the eye but he didn't back away and stared right back.

“What?”

Sherlock was worried and furious and scared. Everything could have happened and he had slept all the time, oblivious of the danger to his friend. What if John had died? Car accident? Not a rarity in a big city such as London.

“I-is he... is he hurt...? Dead?”, he was shaking. He didn't cry not yet. There still was hope, although very little if his brother had decided it was necessary to visit personally. “Abducted? TELL ME!”

Mycroft sighed and Mrs. Hudson shook her head sadly.

“He's not dead, Sherlock. Or any of those other things you mentioned...”

“So what..?”

What else could have happened. He tried to think of any other possibilities. Had he offended John in any way? What, what, what...

“Sherlock, John Watson is not real.”

Sherlock felt like the world stopped for a moment. He couldn't move or talk or do anything at all except staring at his brother. This was not possible, was it? Hot and cold washed over his body and his breathing quickened.

“What THE HELL are you talking about, Mycroft?”, he shouted.

“He wasn't real, you made him up. Probably due to your loneliness. I'm sorry.”

Mrs. Hudson started crying and Sherlock just stood there motionless. His brain, though, was working faster than it ever had. The staring people, the food in the bins, even the glances from members of the police when they visited crime scenes and Lestrade strange behaviour... It did make sense but how could have he, Sherlock Holmes, not have noticed he was talking with an imaginary person? How could a man as intelligent as him sink that low? And how could it be that John Watson, the most amazing and perfect person he had ever met or not, was just a product of his mind? He was so real, much too real.

“No, no! You are lying. WHY ARE YOU LYING TO ME?”, but he stopped when he saw his brothers face and started crying. Sherlock never cried.

“No, it can't be …”, he sobbed.

“Sherlock, I think it's time you go and see a doctor.”

But he shock his head madly. “No, no they will take him away! I need him, Mycroft, do you understand?”

Mycroft felt a sharp pain when he saw the desperate look in his brother's eyes. And he knew he couldn't take John away from him. He wouldn't be able to bear to take responsibility. Maybe John was just imaginary, but he was the only friend Sherlock got.

“Sherlock, it's fine”, he held his hands up and glanced over to Mrs. Hudson who gave him a reassuring nod, “we won't take him away. If you want things to stay as they are, we'll forget about this little occurrence.”

His brother just silently shook his head.

“Then it's settled. I will be on my way. Please call me anytime, brother dear.”

“Thank you.”

Sherlock avoided eye contact but stopped crying. Under his curls that hang over his face, Mycroft noticed the very red eyes but he just waved and took his umbrella to leave. Mrs. Hudson was quiet as well and disappeared into her private rooms.

They all parted quickly and before he closed the entrance door, Mycroft made sure to check that his brother found his way back to his flat. Maybe it was better this way after all.

**Author's Note:**

> The ending leaves a lot to the imagination which fits again to the title.   
> Please feel free to leave a review :)


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